


Wired

by Veckvalentine



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Android Cores, Android GLaDOS, Android Wheatley, Androids punching each other and wishing they were human, Gen, Multi, anyways heres a strange au i accidentally made, maybe more cores later, only implied crush from wheatley for now, sad shit boys, theres some violence but not a lot so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:59:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veckvalentine/pseuds/Veckvalentine
Summary: Rain was falling the first time Doug and Chell found the two. Rain and thunder and fists. They hadn't known what to do when they separated them and found they had exposed and sparking wires from their human-or human-like- bodies. They didn't know what to do but help them get better. Better functioning systems. Better at not killing each other. Just better. But the two androids can't help thinking the only thing that would be better is if they had left them to die in that alley.





	Wired

Rehabilitated. That's what they were calling the two of them. It could hardly be true, Wheatley thought to himself. He himself still struggled with the urge to pick Glados up and throw her out the nearest window. But he wouldn't because he can't lift her up. That's not rehabilitation. It's weakness. He seemed to be the only one who thought that. Doug and Chell had spent a long time "rehabilitating" them. You see they were AI placed quite ironically in human-like bodies. Androids Doug called them. Some strange people made them. The two wouldn't tell them why. All he knew of the foggy story was that he and Glados were found by the two engineers in the rain with their hands around each other's throats and wires exposed. Now Wheatley didn't normally listen to Doug. Well, that wasn't true he just didn't understand him. Anyhow he didn't normally understand him so he didn't know what he meant by the fact their programming had been compromised to make them aggressive. Chell said- or signed rather since she did not 'said' anything, that it was the closest to a mood swing a robot could have. Doug outright disagreed with the joking sentiment. Whatever reason the two were made must have had something to do with how nauseatingly human they were. It was different and harder for them but they felt and cared and laughed. Never with each other though. Only with the others.

Speak of the devil on his way to interrupt Wheatley's thought process was Doug. He smiled and waved at him. Scrunching his nose Wheatley smiled back weakly.

  
Doug tilted his head and asked "Something on your mind, A2?"

  
"Wheatley" he mumbled and shook his head shortly after in response.

  
Pouring himself a cup of coffee that brewed at the same time every single morning, as usual, Doug sighed and came over to the sofa plopping next to Wheatley with the intent on getting to the bottom of this also as usual. He held up a finger asking for patience and reached into his tweed coat. Extracting a few pills he slipped them in his mouth and drank the black coffee to down it. There was a sound of disgust from the doorframe making them both look up and smile. Chell leaned against the frame arms crossed and face twisted in faux agony. Wheatley could hardly contain a smile. There went that human-like emotions thing again. She had obviously just woken up since she hadn't put on her hip pads yet and was in her plaid pajamas. Wheatley was the first to speak when she entered a room.

"Mornin, sleeping beauty." He said habitually. His favorite thing was validating her on her femininity. It might be one of her favorite things too since she always looked so happy afterward no matter how sour, faux or not, she had been before.

'Morning, Sparky' she signed and ambled to the fridge getting a water. As she plopped next to Rattmann resting her elbow on the couch she signed 'Don't you at least want some sugar in that mug?'

  
"No. I'm far too busy trying to figure out what's wrong with our friend here to argue with you about my more mature taste in drinks" He responded then shifted his whole person towards Wheatley and Chell did the same with a shocked expression. They considered him a friend and that made him ease a bit his mechanisms untightening. Their expectant stares made him feel transparent.

  
"I was just thinking about this whole... rehabilitation thing" The two almost seemed to lean closer at the mention of it "I know you say we're better, but I don't feel so sure."

  
Doug tilted his head "Has Glados done something? Or you?"

"No no. I just still feel... mad when I look at her." He glanced away with guilt in his throat.

"Oh, Wheatley Its okay. Negative emotions are still emotions. What's important is all the progress you've made. You may still want to strangle each other but you haven't in a long time. That counts for something. You can't deny that." Doug rambled on in the androids defense and Wheatley just nodded absently.

  
Chell reached across the still-rambling-and-being-drowned-out Doug and placed a comforting hand on Wheatley's knee making him feel like his system might shut down from the contact. 'I'm really proud of you. Every day for every person is a transition to something new. You have gone from murder to insults at the dinner table. I. Am. Proud.' She gave his knee a squeeze and he thought to himself about how if he could cry he would. He felt the swirls in his circuits of friendship and caring. That was something he didn't understand before Chell and Doug and he still wasn't great at it, but he was going to get better. He made a thoughtful hum and leaned back onto the couch. He can do the same with managing his anger. Rattmann finally finished his motivational speech by the time Wheatley and Chell had leaned back on the couch smiling. His passion was so big sometimes it was hard not to smile at him. As if a homing device for his joy there she was. White bobbed hair and precise bangs that put his messy blonde cut to shame. Her red pupils burned through him like a brand. The balance of his fear and anger when she entered a room flopped back and forth. Today it was mostly fear. He swore she could sense it with the wry grin on her face as she tilted her nose up to him. Looking away he said "I'm going to go out for some fresh air"

An icy laugh left her red lips "You don't need fresh air. You're a robot."

Something about that made Wheatley clench his teeth "You don't need such a bloody attitude either. But nothing seems to be stopping you."

"Touche" She smiled as she leaned on the counter.

  
Before the other two could butt in Wheatley stood and briskly made his way outside. Passing all of the many certificates of Dogs and trophies of Chell's along the way. Maybe that was what made those two humans, he thought. He didn't want to be human. Or at least he thought he didn't. Who could really be sure when you're so angry your motherboard could burst into flames. But if he did. Hypothetically. He could do something great. Achieve something. Maybe that would earn him some respect or attention. Not sure why he would want either of those things he looked around trying to find a way to get them anyways. He did a quick scan for anything he could get an award or trophy for on his internet connection. Making note of the things he thought he might be good at as he started ambling towards town. He stopped first at a little comic book store. There was a flyer for a prize for anyone who could complete a very difficult equation in under a minute. Easy. He was a walking calculator. He waited in line seeing lots of people try, fail, sigh in frustration, and buy their comic books and other knick-knacks anyways and take their leave. It felt like forever until it was his turn but finally he was there. The cashier said he had to buy something to try the equation, so he started reaching for a cool steampunk watch. Then he stopped. Grabbing something significantly better he looked up in anticipation. The man looked at him tiredly and slid a paper with numbers towards him. Wheatley's confidence drained immediately as he realized this was perhaps not in his programming. He already knew that. All the time he was reminded of his stupidity. His intelligence level or lack thereof. By himself and by Glados. He wasn't programmed the same as her for some reason. He spent the whole time thinking about how stupid he was and didn't even try before the timer went off. The cashier looked at him expectantly and he sighed in frustration, paid anyways, and took his leave.

It was a rather warm day for September, but he supposed some things don't act like they'd ought to. Like the weather. Or him. Trying to shake this self-loathing he focused on his goal. Reading his list behind his eyelids in blinks he clapped in decision. There were a lot of articles about awards for being a good samaritan being handed out by officials and politicians. He didn't care for the lot but he really wanted a shiny piece of paper. He spent about three hours after that helping people carry things and helping old women across the road who talked to him about 1820 or whenever the hell they were young. He was exhausted. His wires straining and circuits brittle. It was well into the afternoon before he realized sitting on a bench in the park he was not going to get a random medal for being nice. How did he expect there to be some sort of high horse individual to congratulate him for acting human. He wasn't. He looked at all the people walking their dogs, laughing on the phone, holding hands, being human. God he wished he was. Wishes were not in his programming but he made that one anyways. Although he was sure whatever entity handled wishes only did it for humans... not objects. He felt his chest so heavy and a long tug of sadness in his throat. He couldn't even cry. What was he even here for? How pitifully human to ponder one's existence. But not human enough to quell his thirst. He couldn't even truly be thirsty. Except when his oil reserves were running low or thinned out he felt something he assumed to be similar to thirst. Glancing over he saw something of similar interest to his thoughts.

A drinking contest. Perfect. He wouldn't be affected the way humans would. He didn't have blood and his oil purifier valve would just filter it out. He couldn't lose! His hopes high he rushed into the bar just in time. Flashing his id, another falsehood of his 'humanity', they let him in to give it a try. Sitting on a stool he looked around the bar. Scanning it he could tell only two others were taking the challenge, a posh businessman, and an already rather tipsy trucker. Everyone else was either enjoying company or so oppositely isolated. He drank much quicker than everyone else knowing he would win if he beat the high score before them. 25 drinks. One, perfect. Five, it tasted disgusting. Twelve, he had no idea what this feeling was. Fifteen, he stopped and looked into the glass. Not into the glass but towards it. On a blink, his lids announced to him there was a malfunction happening. Odd. He checked his vitals and system status. Malfunction. MalFUnCtion. What was happening? Finally, he found the source as he slugged his eighteenth drink down. Oil troubles. Valve overload. Twenty-two, so close. He groaned. Some of his systems shut down. Ironically the first to shut down was his judgement system. So he kept going. Twenty-five. The bartender announced it and many people clapped. His pride system was overloaded and he felt his wires getting hot. There was a beep. What shut down? Oh, his balance settings. He was on the floor. People were gawking at him. His vision blurred and everything was slowly going into restorative mode. His valve overheated and he felt it through his whole body. Warmth and then a retching feeling as he expelled lots of the alcohol. He laid on the ground next to it and groaned. His whole body was overheating from the lack of oil. He felt the steam beneath his skin making condensation collect on his skin. Something pricked his eyes. He apparently did have a crying installment. Dreadful way to find out. Blacking in and out he saw the bartender move him to a booth and take his wallet. Then the last time he woke he saw Glados and thought he was having a nightmare and made a whimpering sound backing against the wall.

"Please don't deactivate me again" he closed his eyes feeling tear form again. He hated the damn feeling.

"Idiot" she hissed clicking her heels impatiently.

"Again?" Said a familiar voice. Wheatley searched for it seeing a blurry Doug next to Glados.

Glados walked towards him with a frustrated breath and grabbed him by the collar lifting him to his feet. Wheatley shoved her away both stumbling and grabbing a table edge. He struggled to hold on while she gripped it efficiently with both hands. Another comparison of how she was better than him. It made him so angry. Evidently, it made her angry too since they both lunged at each other at the exact same moment. They both fumbled as they gripped at each other struggling and aggressively shoving. They didn't even care that the probability of everyone's eyes being on them was sky high. Doug tried to talk them down, but they both growled and hissed as they tore into each other more.

"You're so useless. You can't win against me." She growled digging her nails into him.

"No, I'm not! I'm not!" He said through tears undoing her grip on him by elbowing her shoulder roughly.

"Yes, you are! You were made to be useless! I am superior to you. I am everything you are not!" She screamed taking him down to the ground roughly.

Wheatley could only cry and get bested. Be useless. Be worse than her. As usual.

Suddenly her weight was lifted off of him and they were both dragged outside. Doug had him hoisted over his shoulder as his balance settings needed recalibrating still and Chell paced down the sidewalk with a tight grip on Glados' arm. The walk home was awkward and completely silent except for Glados' grumbles and Wheatley inefficiently, just like everything else he did, trying to hide his sobs. They were both put on the couch when they got home. Refusing to acknowledge the other they looked in opposite directions. Doug paced around like he was trying to solve an equation. Chell sat at the counter looking away from them taking heavy breaths. This was their first incident in months. So much for rehabilitation.

  
"He started it" Glados was the first to speak "He's just asking for it."

Doug opened his mouth to speak but the loud slam of Chell's fists on the counter demanded silence. She turned and stomped over to the couch pulling Wheatley up. He wobbled his sensors whacked out, but followed her out of the room and into a white lab area. She started working quietly away at him from a panel on his wrist. He slowly felt his systems come back online as she tweaked at him here and there. She stopped when she was almost done and looked up at him with something that he could only pin as disappointment. That made his heart wrench. Or if he had one it would. His programmed emotions made him feel awful from the look.

'What were you thinking going to a bar, Wheatley?' she stared up at him from where she was crouched next to his stool.

"I was trying to..." He tried hard to find the words but even while he was functioning perfectly fine he couldn't do much right "To win at something... for once."

'Oh Wheatley' She frowned at him 'Why did you feel like you had to do that? Cause of Glados?'

"No- Well a little. Not quite her just. I wanted to be good at something. Best at something. I wanted to have an award or trophy. I wanted to" His lip quivered "Be like you and Doug."

'Be like us? Have we been making you feel left out or poorly somehow, bud?' she looked confused.

"No, I don't... I just" He sighed and shook his head annoyed with himself and admitted, "I wanted to be human."

Eyes widening confused she was unsure how to answer at first and then 'Wheatley you are a living being. You are much like a human.'

"But I'm not one. I'm an object." He hated this crying program and started looking for ways to turn it off manually.

'Do objects feel? Do they move and act on their own? You are no object. Animals feel and act and are not human. They are them. And that is enough.' She signed so quick he almost couldn't keep up with her compassionate scolding 'You are yourself. That is enough. You don't need awards to be great or exist. You just are, Wheatley. Treasure that.'

"I just am" He echoed thoughtfully feeling so many mixed things and for a moment resented his human emotions as they overwhelmed him.

'There' she said closing the panel and wiping her hands together standing much taller than him even as he stood with her 'All done. No more malfunctions. No more alcohol. No more of those thoughts. Just be, okay?'

"Just be" He echoed once again with a smile.

'Try and get some charge and rest tonight okay?' She started leaving and Wheatley grabbed her wrist.

"I have to" He quickly let go of her in nerves and changed his mind trying to cover it up "I mean I want to say thank you."

She smiled and nodded before taking her leave. He was all alone with the thoughts he had. Better to archive those and keep them backed up for his mind and his alone. Robots didn't feel. Not like that at least. Even if he was an exception. He would still hide it. He went to his overly human bedroom covered in knick-knacks and interests of his that made him who he was. Maybe he wasn't human but he was him. And that was enough. Feeling his pockets as he laid down he felt what he had gotten at the store earlier. Maybe he would have to tell Chell. But for now, he went into sleep mode contently, quite unusually.


End file.
